You know us and zombies. Of course you do.
… Big amounts of kudos to the designers and creators of the deck – it’s definitely something very different. It’s a great item to buy for yourself or a friend(s) who a) like zombies b) worry about the next move during the coming zombie apocalypse or c) just needs something utterly and completely different in their lives.
That sounds like you guys, right?
By the way, we love the Geek Syndicate boys and their team: if you’ve not been, you should definitely take a look at their site. All flavours of geekawesome catered for.
Thanks to Liz and GS for giving us the OK to share the zombie tarot love!
Ok, I know what you are going to say, you can’t afford a large, lead lined nuclear bunker under your garden, especially as you live in a first floor flat. Fine and fair, but for many of us there is something we can do in terms of preparing a reinforced space to retreat to.
Starting with the obvious. The Garage.
I foyu are fortunate enough to have a garage you may well be like me. My garage is full of the debris of a previous relationship, old tool boxes, gardening stuff and a moulding weights bench. The plan for my garage is simple though. Clear it out, put up some racking make it a useable space. Now my garage even has a power point and lights, so worst come to worst and my home turns out to be no where near zombie proof enough (which I suspect to be the case) then I have somewhere I can retreat to with the cats. What I need is to set it up. That means water, a storage heater, a toilet, food and cat food supplies (things with long expiration dates and circulate into your home restocking into the garage, the little camping stove and gas, sleeping bag and the tool boxes and garden implements can stay for defence. I’ll also need to rig up some means of seeing outside without giving my presence away. That requires more thought.
In a push though it doesn’t have to be a nice big comfortable garage. Line your loft with those heat blankets they use for runners to disguise your body heat from searches and create a little last resort bolt hole up there, even the cupboard under the stairs could be used in this way if needs be, remove the outside handle on the way in and stay quiet till trouble passes.
Take a walk around your home and think, what can you do if aliens or zombies attack and you need to convince them there is no one left alive in your home?
A felt-based illustration of the experience of the modern zombie.
And so we see that Destroying Humanity is best accomplished, and more fun, when done with friends.
If you live in the UK you will, by now have noticed the damp. Flash floods, endless days of grey drizzly wetness, houses washed out, ponding in the streets. Oh it’s not so severe really, but it has gone on all summer. Wettest summer since records or something. Not much of a summer at all really.
This is of course the sort of apocalypse we could have. We could all end up just washed out, damp, depressed and facing gradually rising waters. Grab your sandwich boards folks, ‘The end is nigh’. Nothing so dramatic as the next ice age or an asteroid to wipe out mankind. We just drown. It’s all very bibilical if you are that way inclined, but i’m not and instead it’s making me think practical thoughts. Thoughts like… ‘I wish I had a Kayak in the garage’ and ‘what would the world look like after a Rainpocalypse’. Then I realised, that ones easy.. it would look like this…
Yup, Waterworld. A terrible cheesy, Mad Max on Water of a movie but none the less this could be our future (hopefully with less Kevin Costner and no small children acting as maps to dry land).
Perhaps as guardians of apocalyptic survival, we should be busy constructing small sustainable towns on large reservoirs, just to be ready.
A librarian and archaeologist, Evelyn Carnahan has saved the world from three mummy apocalypses whilst raising a family, dealing with a slightly flaky brother, building a career as a romance novelist and occasionally taking part in a little bit of wartime espionage.
What’s her deal?
A librarian working in the Museum of Cairo, Evelyn’s passion is archaeology and when her brother turns up with an artefact connected to the legendary city of Hamunaptra, Evelyn gets her chance to break into the world of adventure-archaeology. After some smart negotiating with a prison warden she secures the release of her future husband Rick O’Connell and along with him and the aforementioned brother, they set off into the desert to find the lost city. Hijinx, quite naturally, ensue.
There are rival archaeologists and a secret group of mummy guardians to deal with, but those are just warm up for the mummy shenanigans that kick off after Evelyn accidentally says the spell to awaken Imhotep, cursed priest of Seti I. He wants to take over the world and resurrect his lost love using Evelyn as a sacrifice, but Evelyn’s not the type to go quietly – it’s her understanding of ancient Egyptian that proves the key to the creature’s downfall and with the first mummy apocalypse averted, she settles into a life of archaeology with Rick and young son Alex.
Except then Imhotep’s dead mistress gets reincarnated and manages to resurrect him and it’s time for mummy apocalypse the second: this time Evelyn must find her kidnapped son, deal with a rush of new visions suggesting she’s the reincarnated daughter of Seti I and stop Imhotep from using the Scorpion King and the Army of Anubis to take over the world. Again. While husband Rick is ultimately the one to stop the Scorpion King, it’s Evelyn and her vast store of knowledge on ancient things, that helped them find the secret lair and gave Alex enough skill in Ancient Egyptian to read the resurrection spell that brings her back after she takes a mortal injury. Not only that but she also proves herself an able fighter both in hand to hand combat and with a variety weapons – which comes in useful when assorted minions threaten her nearest and dearest.
Even after the world’s been saved a second time, she doesn’t rest on her laurels. She assists MI-5 with a little wartime espionage then retires to begin yet another career as a novelist; and that’s before you get to the unfortunate events with the undead Chinese emperor and his army of mummies doing battle at the Great Wall of China which tests her full range of skills once more…
Evelyn: Look, I… I may not be an explorer, or an adventurer, or a treasure-seeker, or a gunfighter, Mr. O’Connell, but I am proud of what I am.
Rick: And what is that?
Evelyn: I … am a librarian.
You know, nasty little fellows such as yourself always get their comeuppance.
You better think of something fast, because, if he turns me into a mummy you’re the first one I’m coming after.
The Mummy (1999)
The Mummy novelisation by Max Allan Collins
The Mummy Returns (2001)
The Mummy Returns novelisation by Max Allan Collins
The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor (2008)
The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor novelisation by Max Allan Collins
Intelligent and adaptable, Evelyn is an expert at turning her skills to whatever is needed in order to protect her friends and family from the onslaught of undead creatures that seem to plague them. While her ability to quickly learn new combat skills is a handy thing to have, what is more valuable are the benefits brought by her extraordinary mind – and as an enthusiastic teacher of historical and linguistic knowledge, she doesn’t just use her knowledge to stop apocalypses but is good at preparing other people for future trouble too.
What if they were 13 men, eh? I love how often men approach the apocalypse as the site for wish-fulfillment. Women tend to imagine worst case scenarios: perhaps those two tendencies are related…
Dig that high hat! The Renegades rock.
The earlier version by Bill Haley & his Comets
Joan De La Haye is a South African author whose post apocalyptic zombie novella Oasis comes out later this month.
So since it’s obviously been on her mind we invited Joan to share her thoughts about the apocalypse with us.
What’s your favourite apocalypse scenario and why?
I love the Resident Evil movies! I find the idea of human mutation, whether by natural means or test tubes, fascinating.
Can you imagine mutating into something really cool, but deadly? And then doing that on a global scale?
Every living breathing person mutating into something either absolutely amazing or completely horrific.
Oh! The fun I could have with that …
Learn how to shoot! If the end is coming, you’re going to have to be able to shoot to kill, whether it’s to defend yourself against Zombies or other people who want your stuff.
Sooner or later you’re going to have to pull that trigger and you’ll live longer if you know how to aim properly.
Good question! I think having a survival kit under your bed is probably a good idea and just being prepared, but spending your life savings on a bunker under your house may be a bit excessive. But then again, if the world really does end in an atomic war, you’ll be glad you did and the rest of us who thought you were bat shit crazy will be begging you for a place in it.
I’ve got a space blanket, a swiss army knife, hiking boots, camo cargo pants, a machete (it doesn’t run out of bullets), a revolver and spare amo. And because I’m a writer I’ve also got an empty journal and a few pens. A writer has to write no matter how bad the shit is hitting the fan.
I think Electricity and running water are the most important ingredients to civilisations survival. If we can defend those two, everything else can be rebuilt.
That even when things are at their worst, you still need to find a glimmer of hope. Hope can be found in all sorts of places. It can be found in a simple smile, in a child’s giggle.
Laughter and hope go together. So stop and find something to laugh about. Sing and dance and make music. I’m a firm believer in that old saying: Eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die.
Obviously family and good friends come first. It also depends on how much food and space I have and what those refugees have to offer.
If they’re hysterical and are going to get me and everybody else killed, they can fend for themselves. Harsh, I know. But we are talking about survival here.
By having more than one survival kit and then stashing them in a few places, that way I’ll never be caught short.
I’d go back for my dog, Tolstoy. He’s too beautiful to be left to be turned into a zombie dog. Plus he’s a husky, so he can pull a sled with all my survival gear. He’ll come in handy.
by The Shloo
Shoot to kill and can ‘em up.
That’s it in a nutshell. There are few philosophies smarter because when the world’s getting its apocalypse on you have few other choices. Best you get your head round that from the get-go.
I started shooting when I was eight years old. Air rifles mainly, but by ten I was shit-hot with a bow and arrow. Mum always said they’d make the best weapon anyway – when the bullets run out, who’s going to be making new ones? Arrows, on the other hand, are relatively easy to make. I can shape a bow out of a piece of willow – or pretty much any tree with enough bend in it – in less than three minutes. A clutch of arrows will take me another five, tops. Robin Hood would weep at the skill in my fingers.
And I never miss.
Our bunker’s pretty sweet. There’s a room full of bunk beds that are more comfortable than they look, a pretty well-equipped kitchen, a library, a bathroom, a canning room – my Mum’s mantra is ‘waste not want not’ – and a big communal living area. Dad and Zeke worked hard and it paid off. Speaking of Zeke, my brother and I were both trained in and for almost anything you can imagine: hand-to-hand combat, gas attacks, nuclear fallout, weapon making, foraging, first aid – you name it, we went over it. Sewing’s my weak point, truth be told, but at least I’ve stopped sewing stuff to my jeans and Mum says I sew a pretty strong stitch. That’s what matters.
Of course, I’ve not had what you might call a normal life.
Hardly a surprise, is it? Survivalists? Maybe, but we call ourselves “sensible” – what else would you call those not blind to the inevitable? I was picked on sometimes at school, but after the suspension – and the scrum half’s snapped wrist (thanks Dad, for those self-defence drills) – I was left alone. I didn’t go to dances, never been for a sleepover, never even sat with anyone else for lunch. I didn’t get to do any of that ‘normal’ stuff. Getting attached to people only makes it harder in the long run. It would have made me sad once (I’ve got hormones and hopes just like anyone else), but you’ve got to focus on what’s important.
To hell with normal anyway!
Is it normal to sit and wait for Johnny Mutant to come eat your brains? To wait while the nuclear fallout burns through your guts and your brain spills out the bottom of your spine? To pretend there’s hope, that someone out there’s coming to save you? They’re not, y’know. If you don’t want to end up a splatter-fest of ex-human, then you’d better get wise.
There’s no time for frills and fancy, there’s only one prize and that’s life – or at the very least dying on your own terms. I’m old enough to know that. The future is about survival. It’s all it’s ever about. I wised up to that the day I heard Dad telling Zeke that me and Mum were the weak link, that we were the ones who would most likely slow them down and that if he needed to get rid of us, he wouldn’t hesitate. I didn’t understand. I was a good learner, better than Zeke who was a lazy crumb. I was better with a bow and arrow and I could climb a tree in half the time he could. Just because he could dig earth for longer, I was the dead weight? Like digging a hole and carrying heavy stuff makes the difference when the chips are down? As far as I could see, the difference that marked us out in Dad’s mind was that I was a girl and Zeke was a boy – his boy. I was eleven years old and from that day on I hated my Dad, hated him for marking me out as mattering less because I’m a girl, for seeing me as an albatross and not an asset. It was also the day I decided one thing –
I wasn’t going to be left behind. You shouldn’t be either.
Ironic really that Dad was the first to get bit. I had to shoot him; Zeke froze like he’d learned nothing all those years. Typical. So I shot my Dad in the head and then when Zeke got violent a couple of months later – the isolation got to him bad – and went all frothing-at-the-mouth crazy, I shot him too. If he hadn’t tried for the door I wouldn’t have had to do it. We don’t know what’s out there. Still, at least his death won’t be in vain. Mum can pickle anything and what’s left goes in the cans.
So that was the last of our bullets. Mum and me? We won’t need them, we’re prepared.
I have just heard about a breakthrough in AI that I am certain could spell the end of humanity as the dominant species on Earth.
The news, 2 days ago, that Google’s Artificial Intelligence had independently learned to recognise cats, was greeted as an exciting advance in technology.
However what I see is a possible union between two forces who could destroy our species.
The footage the young AI was exposed to allowed it to identify cats before any other non-human species, showing that the feline propaganda machine is in full working order. Was this simple chance, or have the cats been saturating the internet in the hopes of making contact with a powerful potential ally?
The benefits to both sides are clear.
AIs are not know for being cute, fluffy and charismatic, so humans are likely to be suspicious of them. Cats have successfully tamed large numbers of people, but there are still plenty they cannot reach, plus their resources are probably (hopefully) limited. The union between cute-but-evil and advanced tech is one that surely spells doom for us all.
So think twice before you ‘Like’ that picture of a cat wearing glasses. Your actions could be teaching new and developing AIs some dangerous lessons.